In northern Prague we can find Theresienstadt, a small town of Czechoslovakia; its streets are examples of a planned architecture, dark and severe, and they preserve the memory of a past painly in contrast with the immaterials borders of the sky. I entered into the close concentration camp of Terezin, as a tourist, I crossed all the courts while my feet were drawing, on the pavement, the rythm of a step whose sound wouldn't propagate in the air but would become more metallic and deafening, displacing my thoughts, full of horror, through the time...In the south I visited that ancient land which supported the trusting man with the sea water; a land whose amazing brightness becomes part of the time; where people of different religions find their origin in the same temples. Thete I overcame prohibitions, road blocks, discriminations and I saw the memory of pain in children's eyes. In the centre of Europe these young artists draw with trembling hands. I would like to go away, to forget the eyes I have met, even those belonging to the ones I didn't know, though, in my mind, places, time and events are mixing within a sensation of affection. That is why my timorous hands can't help repeating that aesthetic gesture which turned into shapes, colours and images the arrogance of those hateful men. Libera